Show Don't Tell
by dreamcatchings
Summary: When young girls think of high school, that magical place with lockers and freedom, do they think of pregnancy? Brain tumors? Friendships so messed up you want to move away? Yeah, I didn't think so. /modern highschool au/
1. Chapter 1

_MASSIE ELISABETH BLOCK_

What people don't understand is that being popular is an art.

It's something I've been planning for since goddamn kindergarten.

It's not something you wait for, or something you dream of.

If you want to be popular, you take control.

And I will.

I'm tired of "blending in."

I'm tired of being "averagely smart" and having "average looks."

I'm tired of being known as "Alicia Rivera's ex-best friend."

And by the way, Alicia Rivera?

She can consider herself done.

_ALICIA MARIANA RIVERA_

Massie Block needs to get a grip.

No, really.

She thinks I don't notice the envious stares she shoots at me when we pass in the hallway.

I do.

She thinks I don't notice how she clenches her fists when my boyfriend, Derrick Harrington, hugs or kisses me.

I do.

She needs to get a life, and realize I'm over her.

I dumped her.

We are no longer best friends.

I know that, and hope she does too.

Or I'll have to destroy her this year.

_DYLAN RAE MARVIL_

Parents honestly don't get it.

For real.

They say what they're supposed to: "Oh, darling, tell me anything; I'll always be here for you."

But when you do tell them something (especially if it's_ true_), forget it.

All they do is scream, yell, and ground you.

No wonder our society is corrupt.

What if, for instance, I approach my dear mother and casually mention, "Hey, Mom, I'm pregnant."

She would freak out, shout for ten minutes, throw a couple of priceless family heirlooms, then start shouting again.

_Tell me anythin__g_.

Yeah, _righ__t_.

Not that the example I used is true, of course.

I'm not pregnant.

Oops, sorry, I forgot.

I actually am.

_KRISTEN MICHELLE GREGORY_

It's no secret I'm poor.

It's no secret my friends have to buy me almost all of my clothes and sports equipment.

It's no secret I'm on a scholarship.

It's no secret I have to maintain a B+ at the lowest to continue playing soccer.

It's no secret I'm struggling to keep my grades up.

It is a secret that I have brain cancer.

_CLAIRE STACEY LYONS_

There's a list of adjectives people use to describe girls like Alicia Rivera.

Beautiful, fun, flirtatious, amazing, stunning, cunning, lively, wealthy, fabulous.

Then there's a list of adjectives people use to describe girls like me.

Mousy, plain, average, boring, quiet, pushover.

There's nothing about me that makes me special.

I'm not good at any particular sport or hobby.

I'm sort of intellectual, but not enough to be a super-smart kid.

I'm basically just another semi-pretty useless face.

So when Massie Block (beautiful, fun, flirtatious, amazing, stunning, cunning, lively, wealthy, fabulous Massie Block, who was once upon a time perfect enough to be Alicia Rivera's best friend), thinks I'm worth something to her, who am I to oppose it?

That's why I don't hesitate when I say okay.

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_**because you need to learn to show don't tell**_

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**um hi**

**review please? c:**

**no laughing at my insanely confusing plot**

**okey**

**bye**

**yea**

**bye**

**THIS WAS BETA-ED BY THE AMAZING JOY WHO IS A JOY (hehe) AKA OUTSIDE THE CRAYON BOX AND I LOVE HER AND MWAH**

**-chica**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey hey sorry in advance be this chapter is annoying bc each pov is so short but don't worry they'll be longer**

**alright here**

**is anybody actually reading**

***crickets***

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**MASSIE**

There are two shirts held in Massie's hands, one of them a purple silk Givenchy blouse and the other a lace cashmere Charlotte Russe tank top.

She has been standing in that same spot, clad only in her For All Mankind jeans and her black bra, for the past eight minutes.

180 seconds later, she slides the tank over her almost too-shiny brunette hair, and she wonders: do I look better than Alicia Rivera?

She still has yet to learn that, as long as she's wondering that question, the answer will never be yes.

**ALICIA**

Jolie, Alicia's personal stylist, removes the mask from her client's face. Then Jolie takes two fingers and flips the girl's freshly ombré'd hair. Although ombré dropped out of style a while ago, she is determined to bring the trend back. And she can make anything look stylish.

"Well?" Jolie prompts.

"I love it!" She twirls, her almost too-shiny locks swirling around her head. Then she air-kisses Jolie, who smiles back and disappears out the door.

That leaves her to pull on a pleated navy blue Marc Jacobs organza skirt and her new favorite shirt that she bought just yesterday: a lace cashmere Charlotte Russe tank top.

Quickly, she runs her daily check for any dark hairs on her arms, legs, or face. Finding none, she decides she's ready for school.

Little does she know that she and Massie Block are still too similar for their own good.

**DYLAN**

Dylan, on their other hand, is certainly not ready.

She eyes her new green Versace blouse. The fact that it's baggy is not accidental.

One of Dylan's recent nightmares Is the dreaded (at least for her) baby bump.

There's also no way can she get advice from her mom, considering Merri-Lee hadn't spoken to her youngest daughter since August seventh, three days after she found out she was pregnant.

(She's been keeping track.)

All because of a stupid party.

Oh, how she wishes her cousin Robin had not hosted that damn party.

How she wishes that the boy with the dark hair, and those flawless dark green eyes, had not been there.

Or how Dylan had not been there.

Padding into the bathroom, she picks up her pre-heated straightener and runs it through her unruly red locks. When she's about halfway done, she switches hands, and the hot clay plate slides along her index finger.

She promptly screams and drops the tool to the floor, where it hits with a clang, sizzles, and dies.

Beautiful.

**KRISTEN**

Kristen can't sleep, she can't breathe, and she certainly can't think.

She's gotten herself into such a state of panic ever since the doctor's appointment, convincing herself she had a huge flaw, that she was messed up, that she wasn't perfect.

Her real fatal flaw is that she has no self-confidence.

Standing in front of her mirror, she can point out three things that her wrong with her without even trying, and there are so many more that she can't even count them.

1.) The pimple by her nose that refuses to go away no matter how many times she smears it with her Stuart Rattle anti-acne cream.

2.) She's not anywhere near as skinny or busty as Allie-Rose Singer, who, by the way, is also her soccer nemesis and the only other person with a shot at varsity captain.

3.) She's crying.

Crying?

Why the hell is she crying?

Because she can't think, that's why.

Well, she can _think_, but not in any sort of comprehensible pattern. And the things that _are _understandable are the things she doesn't want to be thinking:_mylifeisoverican'tbelieveihaveabraintumori'mgoingtofailallmyclasseswhyamitakinghonorsishouldbeabletooptoutconsi-deringihavefuckingcancerandi'mgoingtodiethereareallthesethingswrongwithmeishoulddieanywaygetmeoutofhere_.

And the ever-so-pleasant screech of her mother informing her of the bus that is currently paused at her apartment isn't helping in the slightest.

She shakes herself and runs outside.

(Of course, she comes back in, having forgotten her backpack.)

(She blamed it on the brain tumor.)

**CLAIRE**

"Mom, can you help me?" Claire holds the necklace between her fingers, a small silver heart with a carved 'C&amp;C' (not the designer) dangling in front of her neck.

Mrs. Lyons clips the necklace behind her daughter's neck and beams. "Is that the present Cam got for you?"

Her blush and smile are answer enough.

She runs her finger over the smooth surface of the heart and thinks how Cam is the only interesting, fun thing in her life.

But that is about to change. This year, she is determined to do something, be somebody.

By the end of June, Claire's baby-blue eyes won't look so innocent.

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**beta'd by Joy :)**

**wait what's going on with the font**

**wtf**

**gosh what did ffn do what just happened with the font**

**please ignore me im challenged**

**-chica**

**i**

**really**

**love**

**reviews**

**:)**


	3. Chapter 3

**yo baes so this is so late omg and rn im freaking out bc i havent been on here in foreverrr and ALL OF MY SPONTANEOUS DOCS ARE GONE FML anyways enjoy this chapter hopefully i dont kill myself before uploading the next one **

**disclaimer swaggin- dont own it **

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MASSIE-

Massie slid out of the sleek black limo, ignoring the smile from her driver and adjusted her grip on the limited-edition Michael Kors clutch she had in her nimble fingers.

Ahnna Pincher flanked Massie's right side and the two of them, without words, and perfectly in synch, marched across the front walk of the school, past the skateboarders, past the girls reminding Massie of vampires with more black and more piercings, and past the gang of boys.

But instead of ignoring the boys like they had ignored the girls, Massie and Ahnna turned, wiggling their fingers and flashing blinding white teeth (Massie preferred Crest white-strips while Ahnna preferred Colgate).

The boys grinned, walking up to the girls, but of course, that's when hell arrived.

(Massie called Alicia hell a lot of the time, Ahnna's ever present giggle keeping her going with it.)

Alicia looked perfect as always; her skin glowing, her eyes sharp but flirty, her toned legs (does dancing really muscle your legs that much? Massie was really considering taking a jazz class or two) a deep tan color that you couldn't get from a spray tan. And no forgetting Olivia Ryan, the girl flanking Alicia's left side, the girl with a perfect blowout of her blonde hair and take-your-breath-away blue eyes.

And it only took one second for the girls to give each other the once-over before the hell _really_ arrived.

ALICIA-

Well shit.

I allow my eyes to briefly flick down to my shirt just to make sure I was really matching.

Matching with Massie freaking Block.

Massie's eyes narrowed and Olivia, on my right, cried out, "You never told me you were planning on twinning with her!"

It's more of a taunting statement than an upset one, and the guys grin.

"Sorry Liv, I had no idea Massie was really that obsessed with me as to find out what I was wearing," I decide to pin this on Massie, and I give her a cat-like grin.

Massie returns the grin and tells Ahnna, "Remember when I told you in that salon over the summer that I was thinking of getting my hair ombréd? And it turned out Alicia was sitting across from us in the salon, and that day she got her hair ombréd? Talk about s-t-a-l-k-e-r."

Alicia's eyes narrowed; the statement was wayyyyy far from the truth, Alicia had actually decided to ombré her hair after seeing that Angelina Jolie had done it.

But Alicia knew arguing back would just make her sound like a whiny loser.

Massie was a lot better at this stuff than last year.

Alicia decided to just play the jealousy card, so she flips a lock of the ombré and says, "Jealous much?"

Without waiting for a response, she pinches Olivia's hand ever so slightly to alert her they were on the move, and the two girls spun on their heels and marched into the school.

As soon as they were out of earshot of other people, Olivia hissed in Alicia's ear, "Massie's freaking good."

Alicia's eyes hardened. "I'm better."

But is she really?

DYLAN-

After stepping out of her limo and thanking her driver, Dylan waved her hand in the air beside her, just to make sure this was really her life.

Just to make sure she really had no best friend standing beside her, to support her.

There was none.

It's not like I don't have friends, Dylan thought. I just don't have _that _friend.

Eyeing a Massie-Alicia showdown in the front of the school to kick off the first day for everyone, Dylan decided to just go in through the back of the school, because she really just was not in the mood.

While walking around to the courtyard, Dylan sees so many best friends and couples, she can barely breathe and tears sting at her eyes, threatening to to smear her mascara.

No. No. Nononononono. Crying is a no.

Dylan set her backpack down, sliding her water bottle out of the side pocket. Unscrewing the lid, Dylan started to guzzle the water down, and out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a lean blonde girl hugging and leaning in to kiss a guy.

A guy with messy black hair, a guy with those eyes.

_His_ eyes.

Dylan started choking, coughing and sputtering, coughing up all of the water she just drank, passerby's giving her each of their share of weird looks.

But she was still watching the guy.

The father of her baby.

And as if in slow motion, the guy turned toward Dylan's direction, saw Dylan.

And promptly, his eyes widened.

KRISTEN-

School is school. You're a natural. School is easy. It comes naturally. Grow up, Kristen. Grow. Up.

She was stressing, stressing BIG time.

When had Kristen Gregory ever become _afraid _of _school_? she thought. The freaking Valedictorian?! Afraid of school!

Get. A. Grip. Get. A. Gr-

"Kristen!"

It was Layne Abeley, school Salutatorian. Kristen's competiton.

If Layne Abeley ever found out about the brain..._issues_, she would have a field day.

With the entire school.

Because of course, when she knows, everyone knows.

Forget about the tumor Kris, forget...

"Layne!" Pushing her way through the crowd of other people who just got off the bus too, Kristen finally made it through the mass and over to Layne, who was waiting for her by the tree.

The tree was OCD's most prided thing, a cherry tree planted the first day OCD opened, and still growing years later. So yeah, consequences for hurting the tree? Get your transfer papers ready.

Kristen awkwardly leaned into the hug Layne was delivering to her, and as soon as Layne pulled away, and Kristen got a clear look at what Layne was wearing, she fought back a sob.

With a perfectly ironed pink cardigan and and a silky light blue camisole, Kristen already had herself beat, not mentioning the designer cutoff dark wash jeans. Layne has always been the perfect poster child for smart, beautiful, but certainly not a threat to even more smart and beautiful Kristen Gregory.

Now, she was a threat. A big threat.

"You look amazing as always, Kris." She gushed, probably openly lying. "Ready for a whole new school year?"

Kristen faked a giant smile. "Of course. You ready?"

"When am i not?" She replied, and Layne did a little wave, twirling the ball of her foot and walking away, long dark brown hair gently flowing, a hint of gold shining through the locks.

Kristen was screwed. Brain...problem or not, screwed.

CLAIRE-

Everything was perfect.

Except for one thing. No excitement, no change, plain old Claire, cute as ever Cam, same as ever bitchy gir-

"Clairebear!"

There was a half-second squeal from Claire before she was picked up and twirled in the air, blonde hair making a fan and for the two seconds of twirling, she might've been mistaken for a movie star or commercial star, the way everything just looked so perfect.

She landed, and cliché-ly, Cam leaned in and they kissed, like they've been apart for year; when in reality, its been 4 days. Claire did drag him off to go back to school clothes shopping, of course.

Nothing changes.

That was the problem.

Leaning away from the kiss, Cam's eyes widened but his gaze was far away and Claire looked around, eyes gliding over a choking-wait, choking?!- redhead and realized that was who Cam was staring at.

"She'll probably be okay," Claire reassured and Cam nodded, turning back to Claire.

"I know, just watching to make sure," he replied and sure enough the redhead was gaining her breath back.

But Claire didn't know the half of it.

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**so i dont really like how im doing claires part im not even really sure what im doing for her idrkkkkk help **

**leave me a review about claire down below! tips! what the hell i should do! **

**kisses,**

**a**

**nahh its chica bai**

**REVIEWEWEWWEWEWEW**


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